Stand
by xRae Asakurax
Summary: Just how strong IS Wally West? Parallel story to 'Lost and Found'. Wally POV, WallyBruce, slash
1. Chapter 1

**Rae:** And a howdy-doody guys! It's been a while! Well, I'm back with another story. This one is the parallel story to 'Lost and Found', told from Wally's POV. I hope you like it, it was a bugger to do :P

Aaaand, as much as I wished I did, I don't own Justice League. T.T

* * *

I can read people pretty easily. I can tell from a simple twitch of the lips whether they're happy, sad, angry or even vexed. I can tell when people are lying because their body gives off so many clues. So why did I find it so difficult to read Damien Crowe?

I've no idea why. My mission was simple; scout out and keep a watch on Crowe. That was pretty easy. There was a place for rent near the guy's house, and it's being paid for courtesy of whatever funds our whole fricking organization. Anyway, I just pretended to be the new guy in town and was going round to see the neighbors, find out what living here was like et cetera, et cetera. I knocked on his door, and he answered, and I asked him about the town and the street and stuff. He seemed quite friendly, invited me in for an iced tea and all. We got to talking, but what bothered me the entire time I was chatting was that I couldn't tell what he was feeling. Was he happy to have someone new around? Was he annoyed at my presence? I just couldn't tell. It unnerved me somewhat, I'll tell you that now.

When I left he told me to come anytime if I ever needed anything. I shot him a grin and told him I would, thanks for the offer. Wandering back down the street, I was aware that my legs were itching to start running around. Of course I couldn't, that would defeat the whole purpose of having a secret identity. Quite frankly, the media attention I get as Flash is more than enough for me without Wally having to get it as well. Kind of odd for someone with a very social and attention-seeking disposition like mine, wouldn't you say? Yeah, I can't figure it out either.

For the next few days I lay low, getting to know the town and the streets and stuff, just in case anything went bad and then I'd know my way around. I found that by going slower I got a better map in my head. I suppose when you have a creative mind like me then it's easy to picture things in your head. Like how I picture Batman under his mask.

Hmm. There's a random little thought. Not unpleasant, though. I'll readily admit to liking Batman. A lot. But I doubt he'll ever see me as much more than the annoying little brother of the Justice League. Ha. That's a good rank name. I always imagine him with dark hair. Suits his personailty, I guess. Blue eyes, I think. No, definately blue eyes. And a personality that's not as gruff without that cowl on. When he's....whoever the fuck he is under that mask.

Anyway, I digress. I spent a good deal of time outside Crowe's house as well. I made it a pretense I was only hanging around for the park that his house backed onto. I guess that wasn't all a lie; the park was one of the most beautiful I'd ever seen. It was traced by trees and bushes and other plants that looked so alive despite the dry heat. An adventure playground sat slap-bang in the middle of a section of soft, worn, multi-colored tarmac that made up the ground. A see-saw, a merry-go-round, two swing sets (one for older children and one with those booster seat thingies), a slide and climbing frame that included a wobbly bridge, a spinning tube, monkey bars and a running paddle, one of those things where you hold onto handles and run on the top of the barrel. Kind of like when you see people running on top of barrels in cartoons.

The park surrounding the playground was extraordinarily green and lush, and apparently full of wildlife; even as I watched one day a couple of rabbits ran swiftly across one of the many criss-crossing stone walkways. The walks all lead to a central pond, I found. Some walks were longer than others, and took you round the various parts of the park. My favorite was the eucalyptus trees walk. They always smelt wonderful. The pond itself was pretty big...I reckon about 100 meters in width and then 150 for the breadth. I've no idea how deep it was. I didn't fancy jumping in and finding out.

Really pretty town is Findlay, all in all. The stores aren't half bad either. I found a game store, a really nice-looking café with cheap prices, a DIY store, an electronics store and a huge library and bookstore next door. I decided it was definately a place I could get used to living in.

'Course, I never really got that chance, did I? I went back to Crowe's and asked him about the local colleges and schools and stuff, and what classes they held. Things like that. He told me that Owen's Community College did several night classes, or there were loads of day classes over a couple of semesters that I could sign up to do. He gave me a few names, numbers and addresses and stuff, and I went outside to look them through. They actually looked really interesting. I'd've loved to do some of them, but life's never that giving, is it? I sat myself down on my favorite bench and shuffled through the papers. It was halfway between Crowe's house and the park path that started next to it. It was the perfect spot to observe both the park and Crowe.

It was almost right after I'd got off the line to the Watchtower a couple days later to tell them nothing new in developments that it all spiraled downwards so fast I couldn't keep up. I was sat outside on my bench, eyeing the house I'd been assigned to watch over. So little had come up, and I'd never seen him toe the line at any time. In fact, he seemed to keep well away from it. I honestly don't know what came over me, but I started to feel really tired. My guard dropped, and that's when I felt something slam into my neck.

It hurt, but only briefly. See, I'm wary about tranquilizers. My blood pumps so much faster round my body than the average person's does, so the tranq works hella faster. I mean, I have such high blood pressure, any normal person's vessels would have burst instanteously. Internal haemhorraging. That's what it's called. I've seen enough of it to know. I am, after all, in the forensics department. Poisons I don't have to worry about, my body seems to naturally detoxify them far faster than they can take effect.

I remember looking back to see the totally cool and impassive face of Damien Crowe staring at me, and thinking that I still couldn't read him, before everything went black.

--

The first thing that crossed my mind when I woke up was that my head really really hurt. I mean, it felt like someone was trying to ax it open or something. I groaned and tried to hold it to stop the pounding, but that's when I discovered my wrists were bound above my head. Hmm. Not the most comfortable of positions. So then I tried to move my legs from the side of me to under me. And I _screamed_. They hurt. A lot. Made my head feel like someone was trying to blow my brain away with just their breath. Whatever they'd done to my legs, it hurt worse than hell. The pain that shot through my body coupled with everything else - the shock, the confusion, the mother of all headaches and so on - nearly made me sick, but I had enough will to push it down.

But that's when it sank in. My legs. My legs were busted. My power, my life. Without my legs, I'm about as useful as a broken toaster, and just as helpless. I didn't like it, one bit. I tried to vibrate my wrists out of the manacles encasing them, but I simply didn't have the energy to do more than give myself a friction burn. Which only added to my extreme discomfort.

Understatement of the year.

Anyway, I settled down and decided to try and think of a way out of this mess, but with my head still woozy and achy, and the dizziness that kept threatening me, I found that perhaps that wasn't the best idea ever. So instead I took a look around my very homely accommodation. A square room. Concrete walls. A large metal door in the other corner. A drippy ceiling. Manacled wrists. I was in a fucking _cell_.

The only one who knows how much time passed before someone came in is God, but it must have been a good 3 or 4 hours. Three men entered. I recognized the man in the middle of the little procession as Crowe, and gave him an impassive look. The man at the front introduced himself as Naduk Howell, and the one at the back was Stark. I remember 'Iron Man' being the first thing that crossed my mind. It was shoved aside immediately though; Robert Downey Jr was way cuter.

Howell was good-looking, but had a rough complexion. Scars marred his neck and jawline, which was heavier than one would expect for the slimmish face he had. Close-cropped muddy-blond hair gave him a soldier's look, and a frown twisted his lips. Stark, on the other hand, was heavier. Still slim, but you could tell he had muscle. His physique was a little like mine, I suppose. But it seemed that Stark had been absent the day good-looks were handed out as freebies. A heavy-set jaw, shallow cheekbones and a grim lip-curl. _Lovely, darlin'... just hold that pose....damn, broke the camera_. That kind of thing.

"Why were you spying on me?" Crowe's voice was pleasant, but had an underlying tone of anger. I scowled at him.

"I wasn't. Dude, I'm new to the neighborhood, how the fuck would I know you?" I jangled my chains. "Is this how you greet all your new neighbors?"

"You were sat outside my house day after day, staring at my house and then the park. You were spying on me. Who for and why?"

I hated how raspy my voice sounded. "I wasn't fucking spying, man! That park happens to be a beautiful park and I was envious of you having the house right next to it! I mean, I'd love to have your house."

Crowe eyed me, apparently deciding whether or not I was telling the truth. He must have settled on the idea that I wasn't, because he turned on his heel and told Howell to bring me to the interrogation room. A cold feeling settled in my gut; I really wasn't going to like this, was I?

--

I just hate it when I'm right about something bad. I was in so much pain that I didn't let out a sound when they literally threw me against the wall of my cell, making me land awkwardly on my busted legs, and then chained my hands roughly up again. I felt vaguely proud of myself when they left; I hadn't told them anything, despite what they'd done to me. I could feel the precise scalpel cuts on my torso and arms seeping blood into my already ragged shirt, but I was a fast healer. They'd be gone in a couple hours Although, it may be longer than that. I've never had cuts that go straight to the bone before.

Then a thought struck me through my haziness; if I was such a fast healer, why weren't my legs getting any better? They felt exactly the same as that many hours earlier. They should at least _start_ to feel better by now. But they weren't. Looking slowly up so as not to aggravate the headache I had, I tried once more to vibrate my wrist out of the manacle. Again, all I did was give myself a friction burn. I just didn't have the energy.

For the first time in my life, I felt totally and utterly helpless. I couldn't stand let alone run, my energy was sapped, I felt sore, my head was pounding, the League had no idea I was missing and I had no idea what was in store for me apart from more torture. I did the only thing my hazy mind came up with, and that was scream. I screamed loud and long, straining against my bonds before slumping back when my voice broke. I took no heed of the tears slipping down my cheeks. I just wanted out of here.

--

It became a daily occurance, those "interrogation" sessions. At first, it was all I could do to not scream, to not break down and let myself go. But then I started thinking about the League; my friends and the only family I have. And Batman. God, above all things I wanted to see what he looked like under that mask. I concentrated on what I pictured his face to be like, his voice without the channeled harshness of Batman in it and what his bared fingers would feel like tracing my cheek.

Yeah okay, shut up. Like that would ever happen. But seriously, it's the only thing that got me through it. Even just thinking about Batman, how strong his presence was and his voice in my head berating me for being weak, was enough to give me the will power to not say a thing. I'd show him how strong I could be.

The knife slid into my torso again, making me tense up even more than I already was. "Why were you spying on me? Who do you work for?" Crowe's rough snarl came at me again, and I gritted my teeth and spat out some excess water from their earlier drowning attempt before replying.

"Has your memory bank got a leak in it or did God forget to give you a brain at all?" I gasped out. "I don't know how many...." I hissed a quick intake of air when the knife began another slicing act. I could tell they'd put a mild poison on it; the major stinging gave it away. I wasn't worried about that. "...many more times I'm going to have to tell you before it gets through that thick head of yours. I. Wasn't. Spying!"

Oh yeah, Bats would be proud. Crowe and Howell, apparently, weren't. The former leaned into the latter and said something quietly in his ear. Howell smirked and nodded, and Crowe left. The stocky man walked over to me, leaning down until his face was a mere 3 inches from mine.

"You'll do nicely, I think," he said softly, an eerie smile twisting his lips. "I reckon my clients will get a fair bit of....enjoyment out of you." At that, he pulled away and inclined his head to Stark, who'd been watching the procedure in silence like he always did, to take me back to my cell.

--

Honestly, if it wasn't for the League invading my thoughts, I'd've gone stir crazy long ago. Who knows how long I've been here; I stopped trying to count days. They've stopped the interrogations now. Guess they realized they ain't getting anything outta me.

So it startled me, after not hearing so much as a clanking pipe for God knows how long, when the door opened, and a familiar silhouette shadowed the door. He was alone, this time, so I shot him a dirty look.

"What do you want, Stark?" I asked, dangerously. He didn't answer me, just stared at me as he let the door close behind him. It was kind of unnerving, but I refused to let it show. "I asked you a question. What do you want? Another torture session? I can take it. I haven't got anything to hide." My voice was getting lower the more annoyed I got at his lack of reaction.

He didn't say anything for a minute, just walked up to me and seemed to study me from several different angles. There was a 'chink-thunk' as the manacles binding my wrists were taken off. "Yes, you'll do. Howell has an excellent eye, as usual." He had an accent I couldn't quite place, and he whistled his 's's more than a normal person would. "I want you to meet somebody."

Moving back to the door, he opened it to admit someone else. Well, 3 someones actually. And I really didn't like the way they were looking at me.

"That him?" One of them asked, and I could tell the Southern accent immediately.

"Yes." Stark kept his answer blunt. "He is yours for the next hour." With that he left, shutting the door and then - oh Lord no - bolting it. He _locked_ the fucking _door_. With me in here. Alone with a bunch of weirdo strangers who were now grinning at me in what I could only describe as a very, very lecherous way.

And then it hit me. Like when GL whacks me over the head for a stupid comment or question, only like, a thousand times harder. I knew what this place was. I knew what Howell was. And I knew why these men wanted to be alone with me.

Human trafficking. That was all I could think right then. I was part of a trafficking business, except I was the merchandise. I attempted to scramble away from them, but the pain from trying to move my legs made me gasp and give up my efforts almost immediately. One of the men cackled at my vain struggles.

"Think he's a virgin?" He asked, which made me still and tense immediately. I wasn't, but only in the normal sense. In terms of...well, what they were talking about, yes I was.

"Hope so. He was a lot of money." The first man I saw spoke again. His articulation was stronger than the others'.

"Let's find out." The third man grabbed my shoulder and wrenched me round to face him, and he whistled. "Well even if he ain't, he's still a beaut. Where does Naduk get them from?"

"Not sure I wanna know, but he's a genius either way." A voice from directly behind me made me jump, right before I felt a hand sliding up my back and attempting to take my ragged shirt off. I'd be damned if I was going to consent to anything, so I clamped my arms down and thrust my elbows backwards. I caught him in the stomach, I think, because he suddenly fell backwards with a loud 'oof'. There was some satisfaction in that. "Damn, got a little spirit in him," he said, though his voice sounded slightly heavier. Though from the fall or desire, I wasn't sure.

"Good. I don't like them completely broken." The first man ran a finger down my side, causing me to shudder involuntarily. His smirk widened. "I like to do that myself. I think we're going to have fun, boys."

I just glared at them. No way in hell was I going to make this easy.

--

By the time the three men were done, I was so, so sore and in so much pain. My legs really hadn't benefitted, and I could feel several bruises starting to form in various places. Violated, was the only word I could think of to describe myself at that moment. I didn't even attempt to resist when Stark came to chain me back up. I just turned my head to the side and spat out a mouthful of blood. Some of it, I entertained, wasn't mine. If I say so myself, I put up one hell of a struggle, and had bitten them really hard several times. Hard enough to draw blood.

At the same time, it disgusted me. For good measure, I spat again. This wasn't going to end any time soon, was it?

Honestly, I can't even begin to describe how I was feeling afterwards. The pain was kind of expected, considering they'd all had their way with me in one form or another, but emotionally? Turmoil. I was disgusted, horrified, numb, helpless, regretful, angry, distraught....and yet it didn't seem to affect me externally. I just looked blank, broken.

But I was far from broken. It added grim amusement to that list, thinking about what they'd said. They didn't like their toys broken, because they liked to do it themselves? Ha. Let them try.

It's the fact that I'm not strong like Superman, or overly smart like Bats or J'onn that I'm always trying to prove myself. During that incident with the Justice Lords, I saw how much they'd fallen apart without their Flash. Their Wally. Because I, to all intents and purposes, am the glue that binds everyone together. I am the one that takes the brunt and keeps standing upright. If you look at it like that, I'm stronger than any of them.

I'm not trying to make myself out to be self-centered here, and if I am then I apologize, but it's what I've come to conclude during my time in the League. Emotionally, I'm the most stable and unequaled. I never realized until recently how much my one-liners or my smiles affected people. It's like I'm a source of comfort for them or something. I don't know how to describe it.

Regardless, it was that idea of being the most stable and relied-upon Justice Leaguer that gave me the strength I needed. I was going to get through this, and the League would come for their 'little brother' and rescue me. I knew they would. After all, Batman would be turning over every rock and draining every ocean to try and find clues as to my whereabouts. He's a detective. The world's greatest. He'd find me.

I hope.

--

"I've been hearing some...complaints from your servicers," growled Howell, grabbing me by the neck of the over-sized bedraggled shirt I had on and hoisting me up against the wall behind me. I winced but didn't say anything at the crack to my back and the pain shooting through my legs.

"Really, now." I was pleased at how calm my voice sounded. "I wonder why that would be."

"You have one month to sort yourself out, boy," he snarled, dropping me. I couldn't help a whimper at the jolt, but glared at him with everything I had. He seemed disappointed and angry I still had this much spunk left in me. Well, here's a lesson for him; we Wests are not quitters, whatever else people may think of us.

"Or what?" I snapped back, glowering at him. "I'm not doing this voluntarily. I'll keep fighting and you'll never break me."

Howell's eyes narrowed as he back-handed me. I kept my head facing sidesways, but my gaze never strayed from his. "Or you'll be sold, boy. And you won't like that. At all." He swept out, clanging the door shut behind him, and I released a breath. Sold? I would be _sold_? Fuck, now I really _was_ in a pickle. I lowered my head and stared at the floor, before squeezing my eyes shut and praying to whatever God was out there that Bats would find me. Man, he had to.

--

You have no idea how much of a relief it was when my cell door burst open and torchlight flooded the room, making my vision go blurry and swirly, and an unfamiliar voice called, "I've got another one here!". I just knew I was being rescued, and I couldn't help it; I burst into tears. About 3 more people entered the room, and I felt someone rubbing my back gently while my manacles were removed. It felt good, calming, even.

Somewhere in the rabble of background chatter, noise and sirens and the hum of whoever was rubbing my back's voice, someone swore and said something about my legs. The person next to me - a female paramedic, I noted vaguely - bit something out worriedly and then turned back to me.

"What's your name, love?" Her voice was soft, balmy. I felt myself relax slightly before rasping out, somehow, "Wally."

"Wally? That's a lovely name. I've always liked that name." She sent me a reassuring smile, which I caught in my adjusting vision. I ventured at giving her a weak one back. "Wally, we're going to have to give you a local anaesthetic for your legs. They look really painful. It will take away that pain, okay?"

I could feel said appendages throbbing, aching. I nodded, and felt a small prick in my skin before my legs started to go blissfully numb. At last, they weren't painful anymore. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and my sight came back more. My hearing sharpened up again. I shifted as much as I could to give two of the paramedics an easier time lifting me up between them.

What? It's not like I was going to be walking anywhere.

Speaking of which...I looked down at my legs properly for the first time since they'd been broken. I never got a proper look at them, and I nearly retched at what I saw. Bone was clearly visible through pierced and torn skin. Shards were sticking out and not in place, which explained the lack of healing. My power couldn't work if my body wasn't set right. From the amount of time I guessed had passed, it would be several months before I was even attempting to walk again, let alone run. Even with my speed-healing.

That wasn't all of it, though. Muscle tissue was missing, I could see where it had once been. My kneecaps were either really really really badly battered, or smashed, and it looked like a few of the wounds had gone septic. Yay for blood poisoning, I thought sarcastically. Man, I'd seen some gory stuff in my time, but seeing it on myself is a whole lot different.

As I came out of the building into an evening sunshine, I spotted a very familiar figure directing people and handing over girls and a boy or two to the paramedics. I couldn't help but break out into a grin when he looked my way, and his eyes widened behind that cowl.

I knew it. See? He came for me. He rescued me.

I was taken to the back of an ambulance, and the woman who'd soothed me before sat next to me. "Wally?" She started hesitatingly. "My name's Jean, Jean McDonald. I'm going to have a look at your legs, okay? I need to see the extent of the damage." I shrugged to show I didn't mind, and she grabbed a couple others passing by to help her put me onto a bed.

What she did exactly, I'm not sure. I found her constant talking was very comforting, and I was so fucking tired. I feel asleep soon after she began her examination, and woke with a start when she shook me gently awake. "You okay?" She asked, and I nodded and sat up, rubbing at an eye that didn't seem to want to stop twitching.

"What's the diagnosis, Doc?" I winced at how rough my voice sounded. To be perfectly honest, I was totally parched. Jean seemed to recognize this, and told me to wait for a minute. I did as told, and she came back with a steaming mug of something. I didn't care what it was, it was warm and wet. Sloshing some of it down, I felt better instantly. The heat seemed to bloom through my body, going from easing my headache to warming my internal emotional core. I sighed and gave her a smile. She gave a wan one back.

"Wally, about your legs..." She wavered, then seemed to compose herself. "Honey, we're not sure you'll ever walk again."

I dropped my mug, not caring about the mess I made, and whipped my head up to stare at her, not sure I'd heard right. "What?!"

"I'm so sorry. The damage to your legs is incredibly extensive. Someone obviously really wanted you to stay there." She started rubbing my back again in sympathy, but I'd just gone numb. If I couldn't walk, I couldn't run. If I couldn't run, my life was gone. It's like part of my being had been mercilessly ripped away with those words. I'd never run again.

"No..." I whispered. Tears traced down my cheeks, but I didn't notice. "Everything...it's all gone. All gone."

"Wally?" Jean looked at me uncertainly, but I still stared at the floor. "My life! Running! They took it from me!" I cried violently, and broke down. There was little else I could do. I couldn't run, probably never would again, and my emotions were running wild and unfocussed. I was a wreck. No emotional control, no superspeed...and the League didn't even know my real identity. Seriously, could it get any worse?

--

It was a while before I calmed down again, but when I did Jean gave me a jumper that was at least two sizes too big and another of those warm drinks and left me with my thoughts. I cupped my hands around the mug, letting it warm my fingers. A couple minutes later I heard someone come walking towards me and I looked up, presuming Jean was coming back.

What I didn't expect was Batman to be standing there. He couldn't know, surely. Could he? I masked my surprise and flashed him a small smile. "Thanks for the save," I said. He inclined his head almost imperceptibly.

"What did they do to you?" Oh, how I had missed that gruff voice. I could've melted into a puddle of relief when I heard it. Thank God this wasn't some dream.

"Take your best guess," I replied, blowing gently on the steam rising from my mug and taking another sip of the drink inside. Whatever it was, it was good. Sweet.

It was a few seconds before he spoke again, but this time more sharp and angry. "What did they do to your legs?" At that, my hands starting shaking slightly, and my indifferent mask fell away all too easily. Emotions I'd managed to gain some kind of control over welled up again.

"They...busted them, did something to them. The paramedics say I may never walk again, and I won't ever run again. Running was my life." I made a strange noise, somewhere in between a hiccup and a sob. "It's my life, I love running. They took it away from me." I felt the ambulance lower slightly as Bats sat next to me.

"What's your name?" That simple, humaine question coming from the Dark Knight himself forced my swollen sorrow back down to be replaced with surprise and slight embarrasssment that I'd nearly lost it again in front of him.

"Wally."

"Bruce." He looked at me with that piercing gaze of his, searching, when I whipped my head up at that. Bruce? Seriously? His name was _Bruce_? I studied what little I could see of his face. Yeah, that name suited him. I liked it. A lot.

"Bruce?" I liked the feel of it rolling off my tongue. "That's... your real name?" I dropped my gaze back down to my mug when I found myself staring longer than necessary.

"Yes." A pause. "You can come with me, you know." _That_ pulled me away from my drink for like the third time in the space of 5 minutes. "Eh?" Was my intelligent reply.

"To the Watchtower. I have medical training, and our equipment's more advanced than the hospital's. There's a greater chance you'll run again."

"Seriously?" I felt something blossom in my chest, something excited, happy. Hope. Definately hope. I might _run_. I could be Flash again!

"No promises, but there's a better chance."


	2. Chapter 2

I was watching TV in the Watchtower's medlab, an action-y crime drama called 24. It was actually pretty good, and I found myself being absorbed into the plot and the storylines, always keeping me guessing as to the results of descisions by the characters, rash or thought through.

I got distracted when the doors to my room slid open, and I turned to see Batman walking in. I shot him a cheery grin. "Yo Bats," I greeted.

There was a pause, and then a very unexpected reply. "Hello, Flash."

A jolt of horror crossed my mind, and it must have shown on my face. I nearly fell off the bed I was that surprised. "How..." Fuck, voice broke. I cleared my throat and started again. "How did you know?"

"I'm Batman." He said it as though it explained everything, and I guess in some way it did. He was the world's greatest detective, after all. Still, there was something off about his air that I couldn't put my finger on when he shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm just glad we found you. We'd nearly given up hope of finding you alive."

Those words caused a tide of emotions to wash over me, ranging from shock to joy to sadness. I picked at my covers, plucking pieces of pale cyan fluff off and discarding them.

"You nearly didn't," I said softly. "I put up one hell of a fight, more than they were comfortable with, so they were going to get rid of me at the end of this month. If they hadn't sold me by then." I felt a hand grip my shoulder comfortingly, and I looked up at Batman.

"Well, they're behind bars now. And I'm going to get you running again, you'll see." He sent me one of his rare small smiles, and I felt my spirits lift at it. I trusted him implicitly, I realized.

"I know. You always pull through."

--

Yes alright, I looked like a complete cripple, and maybe I was, but honestly, I couldn't have been happier. My legs were healing well, the constant physios with Bruce were keeping my strength up and I was gaining back the weight I'd lost while in the brothel. My muscle dystrophy was reversing as well; I felt stronger with every passing day. My hair had been cut and torn out several times by my servicers, but it was growing back nicely. I decided to have it longer than I previously did, because it felt pleasant against my neck.

The swimming helped greatly too, I found. With the water supporting most of my weight, it was easy to get my legs back into the motions of walking. The resistance of the water against my walking attempts made said appendages stronger. There were several times I would walk a few steps on my own while not in the pool, more and more each time I tried. Something akin to a thrill ran through my body the first time I managed to get from the garden doors to the table on which Bruce was laying some snack things totally by myself. No crutches (though I had them with me), no Bruce and no leg braces. It was a good 100 yards, maybe a little more. It was only then that it really sank in. I was walking. Actually walking. Soon, I would be able to walk everywhere again. After walking, though, always came running. And that was what I was most looking forward to. Flash was well on his way to a full recovery.

I think a lot of the healing was down to Bruce, though. And I'm not kidding. I'm a social person, and being left alone or not having anyone to talk to or help me was like my biggest fear. I _needed_ to be around people. Not having anyone would only hinder my recovery, and that's where Bruce came in. He helped me through everything, from the physio and impulsive therapy sessions to physically aiding me move around. If it wasn't for him, I surmised, I'd be taking a lot longer to heal than this. I had something to fight for with him.

Of course I was acutely aware I was currently staying with the object of my affections, and the more time I spent with him the more hopelessly I fell for him. As I had originally thought, beneath that cowl was a man with a true heart, one who cared more fiercely than any of the other Leaguers. And right now that care was devoted solely to me. So, like I said, I couldn't have been happier.

--

I felt so embarrassed when I tripped up over that pot plant, and even more so when I realized I'd fallen on top of Bruce, who seemed to have decided to be the cushion to my fall. I became aware of an arm wrapped around my waist, and I raised my head to look him in his eyes. I started to giggle, and he arched a perfect eyebrow.

"What's so funny?"

"Me. I'm such a klutz, that's what."

"Oh." A smirk tugged at Bruce's lips. "Well, I could have told you that." I stuck my tongue out childishly at him, and he snickered. That set me off again, and soon we were both laughing. I leaned against him for support, and I thought I felt the arm around my waist tighten. Eventually we brought our giggles back under control, and I made to get up. But something kept me from doing so, and I made the mistake of turning my eyes back to Bruce's in surprise. They were blue, so so blue. Dark, brooding, but caring and intelligent. Wrong move, right move, depends on how you look at it. All I know is, next second his lips were on mine and I stiffened in surprise. I didn't know what to think; was he fucking around or was he serious? I began to tentatively kiss back, scared that it might be some kind of trick, but he drew me closer. I placed my hands on his chest, curling my fingers to clutch his shirt.

He nibbled lightly on my bottom lip, and I nearly melted when he deepened the kiss, his tongue coaxing mine into a very hot tango. His fingers trailed delicately up my back, leaving small tingles where they touched. I moved my hands up from his chest and put them round his neck, letting my own fingers tangle themselves in dark hair. It was very soft, and I enjoyed the feel of it on my skin.

I'd be damned if I let him have all the fun, though, and launched my own counterattack to try and gain some semblance of dominance over him. He took it in his stride, allowing me some leeway but retaining most of his sway. When we finally parted, I was out of breath and gasping hard for it. I couldn't tear my eyes from his, wondering just when I'd lost my heart to him completely. I managed a grin, though it felt a little lopsided. Bruce returned the gesture lightly. I disentangled my fingers from his hair, moving them down to rest on his stomach, which I traced the contours of absent-mindedly.

"Can I take that as a 'you're annoying but I like you anyway'?" I asked a little cheekily and breathlessly, and Bruce settled back on his elbows.

"No," he said simply, "you can take that as a 'you're annoying but I _love_ you anyway'."

I felt my eyes widen and my heartbeat quicken at his words, and for a few seconds it didn't sink in. When it did, I threw my arms around his neck without fear of being pushed away. "You don't know how much I wished for you to say something like that to me," I whispered.

"I should've said it sooner," he murmured when I reluctantly pulled away from the embrace. I looked him right in the eyes, and saw nothing but sincerity and a caring desire. I pressed my lips to his again briefly.

"I never really did thank you properly for rescuing me from Howell's prison," I hummed, deliberately making my voice more musical than usual. Although why, I wasn't sure.

"If there's one thing I can't stand, it's human traffickers. Howell's operation was one of the largest in the area, and I was going to take it down no matter what." Bruce ran a finger across my cheek with a feather-light touch, a touch which I instinctively leaned into. "And I'm damn glad I did." There was a slight pause, and then he added, "So, how did you get caught by Howell anyway?"

My breath caught in my chest as unwanted memories surfaced, but I forced them down and replied. "Well, I was staking out Crowe's place and it was pretty quiet. Like, nothing was happening. So I dropped my guard a bit. And I got hit."

"Hit how?"

"Tanquilizer dart. Nasty little bugger. It would take longer on a normal human, but because my blood runs faster through my body so does the tranquilizer. I had barely enough time to see it was Crowe who'd shot me from behind before blanko. Nothing. Anyway, when I woke up I was in this...cell, I suppose. No other way to describe it. My hands were chained above me, like so," I showed him by crossing my wrists and holding them loosely above my head, "and it was really dark. I felt woozy and ill, but when I tried to move my legs they just screamed at me. I remember nearly being sick from just trying to move them.

"Well, I dunno how long it was before my cell door opened, and a man walked in ahead of Crowe and another man. The first one introduced himself as Naduk Howell, and the third man was apparently called Stark. No clue why.

"But anyway, they took me to...well, they called it an interrogation room, but it was really a torture chamber, to try and find out why I was spying on them. Never told them anything apart from 'I wasn't'. They decided they weren't going to get anything more outta me so they threw me back in the cell. My next visitor was ages after that decision, and it was Stark." I stopped as I felt my voice begin to go, and I shrugged a little dejectedly. "I couldn't do anything to stop him. My energy was sapped, my strength gone, I hurt all over and my legs were broken and battered."

Bruce didn't say anything when I finished, just drew me back into an embrace. I realized how much I needed his touch after telling him all that, something to drive the thoughts back into whatever darkness they came from. I hugged him back fiercely, gripping the back of his shirt with tightly clenched fists.

"They never broke you," said Bruce, after a silence. "You won, Wally. You're still here, healthy, happy, and your spirits are still very much alive." He stroked the back of my hair in a soothing motion. "And I love you."

Just hearing those words, spoken with a soft firmness that confirmed without a doubt the genuineness of his feelings, broke something slightly inside me. My emotions poured out into my head in waves, all of them good and most of them linked with the predominant feelings of love and relief. "Love you too," I managed to choke out, and buried my face in his shoulder.

--

It was a few days later that I was asked by the Gotham police if I was well enough to be a witness against Howell, Stark and Crowe, and if I wanted to. My answer was a firm 'yes', making Bruce smile. So, two days later I was in court, waiting for my turn to be called out as a witness. Bruce had handed me something before I sat down, and I opened it carefully now. Inside were pictures he'd taken of my legs when he'd found me and taken me back to the Watchtower, as well as those of the scars from my torture. He'd taken several pictures to record their progress, partly as research and partly, as he'd said, you never know.

I jumped a little as the prosecution called me to the stand, and I got up and made my way slowly but steadily to the witness box. Once I was comfortable, the man in front of me gave me a small, reassuring smile.

"Please state your name for the court."

"Wallace Rudolph West," I told him. How I _hated_ my middle name.

"You were a captive of the defendants'?"

"Yes sir."

"And how long were you in their captivity?"

"About 4 months." I shifted.

"Can you tell us how you came to be there and what happened?"

I mentally slapped myself to clear my head. "Well, I'd gone to Findlay and rented a house because I wanted to try some of the courses that the nearby College offered - Owen's Community, I think it was. Anyway, I'd been getting to know the town a little bit when I met Crowe. I'd been going around a couple of the neighbours to get an idea of what living there was like. Crowe invited me in, we had an iced tea, we chatted, he gave me some brochures for the night classes OCC did, and I left. I couldn't have been there for more than an hour.

"So I spent a few days looking through the brochures he'd given me. Some of the courses looked really good; the ballistics was something I'd been wanting to do for a while. But I'd chosen to read them on a bench next to his house, which sparked it all, I think. I _loved_ the park that sided his house, and that bench was always in the shade and had a wonderful view of the park. But Crowe didn't seem to like that; he thought I was spying on him. He hit me with a tranquilizer." I turned around and pointed to where it had hit me on the neck. It had left a scar, with the force it had gone in at and the size of the needle.

"When I came to, I was chained up like this," I demonstrated, "and my head was pounding. But it was my legs that really hurt. I couldn't see very well, so it was only when I was rescued that I truly saw what they'd done, but..." I trailed off and my eyes flickered to Bruce, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. "My...um...doctor took photos of my legs during my recovery for documentation." I reached down and took the manila envelope. I opened it and placed the two photos on the lectern in front of me. "These were taken about 24 hours after I'd been rescued."

The man asking me the questions took the photos and glanced at them. Outwardly he didn't show any expression change, but I could sense his heart rate speed up and his eyes widened infinitesimally. He passed the photos on to the judge, and then the jury before turning back to me. "And then what happened?"

"Well, it was when Crowe came for me for my first interrogation that I met Stark and Howell. Howell seemed to be head of the whole operation, while Stark didn't seem to be much more than a lackey. I'm not sure what Crowe was exactly, maybe a recruiter of sorts. But anyway, they took me into this small room with like a surgery bed in it and lots of sharp tools." I took out the other 3 photos, placing them once more in front of me. "They tortured me, wanting to learn why I'd been spying on them and who I worked for. I don't know how long these daily sessions went on for, I kinda lost track of time, but they eventually stopped.

"And then after a few days of absolutely nothing, Stark came in. He had 3 others in tow. He told them I was theirs for the next hour and left, bolting the door shut. They..." I felt my voice break and lowered my head, clearing my throat. "They raped me," I said quietly. "I realized that I'd been drafted into a trafficking ring, but there was nothing I could do. I lost count of how many servicers I had, but it was a lot. I remember nearly giving up at one point, thinking I'd never be rescued. But I was." I raised my head again and found Howell's cold eyes. I locked them with my own. "I was rescued and now I'm almost healed. I could say the same for the others Howell kept, but I don't know how they are."

"And during your time with Howell, did they keep you chained?"

"When I wasn't in use, yes."

"I see. Thank you, Mr West, that will be all for now." I nodded and got up, slowly walking back down to my seat. Bruce took my hand and squeezed reassuringly, telling me I'd done well. I squeezed back to say thanks and let him know I was okay.

--

You have no idea how satisfying it was when the jury proclaimed the 'guilty' verdict for all three of them, against apparently 'overwhelming evidence'. The Justice League, they said, had had quite a hand in providing the evidence. I snickered at that, and Bruce joined in briefly. I looked over at my previous captors. Crowe was standing tall and proud, but with an expression of sheer resentment drawn on his features. Stark seemed to have lost all his fight and hope, but Howell looked around and locked my gaze. Said gaze hardened, and he glared daggers at me. I couldn't help myself; I grabbed Bruce's hand, interweaving our fingers, then reached up and kissed him briefly. Looking back at the now-stunned face of Howell, I smirked, flipped him the bird and turned on my heel, heading out as the court session was terminated.

--

I rolled lazily over when the credits of the movie we'd been watching started rolling across the screen to go from being on my stomach to being on my back. I looked at the screen upside-down, giggling at how weird it made the credits look. I felt the bed shift, and a face suddenly loomed in front of mine with a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Hey," I said softly.

"Hey." He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, and I couldn't help the grin that formed. After that kiss in the garden about 3 weeks ago, I'd accepted an official invitation to go out with him. I could hardly believe it; the one I'd liked ever since I joined the League was now mine, and I was all his. It brought a small shiver to my body, and his hand touched mine in a comforting response. I entwined our fingers and squeezed them gently, and in reply he nibbled at my bottom lip. Something he found was one of my hot spots. Don't ask me why, nothing about me ever makes sense. He pulled away, and I could see his dark blue eyes flit across my body. I bit my lip, and he smiled and leaned down again.

"You're wearing too much," he whispered, and I flushed nearly as red as my hair.

"Bruce, what-" I never finished when I felt my shirt being tugged at, and I decided to oblige him by raising my arms up. The material of my shirt had a slightly silken texture, and felt good sliding off my body. I watched him take his own off, and reached up to trace my fingers along the biggest scar across his chest. I was about to ask how it happened when he shook his head. "Long story," he said simply. I nodded and moved to another large scar across his shoulder, then to two more marring his stomach. I suppose you get a lot of wounds when you're Batman. After all, underneath the cowl he's only human. As am I, I grimaced, feeling my legs twinge in reply. They had pretty much healed, but I was still to stay off them for a while longer. I kept up my exploration of the paler skin. It was like porcelain where it wasn't damaged, and an artist's eye like mine made it seem just that much more beautiful.

Eventually he decided he'd had enough scrutiny and leaned down to kiss me again, this time slipping his tongue in where it met mine in a battle for dominance. I squirmed when I felt his hands trace feather touches down my sides and stomach, and let out an involuntary whimper when his lips left mine. That was only to be replaced with a gasp when they trailed kisses down my jaw line and neck, coming to rest on my collarbone where they latched on. I felt canines bite down, hard enough to make me moan but not enough to break the skin.

"Consider it my mark," he said huskily, and that made me flush deeper. He left my collarbone alone, favouring instead the idea of feathering more kisses down my chest and stomach. "Your skin is tanned," he observed. "Looks nice."

"Thanks," I managed to get out, and I was aware of him smirking against my stomach. He looked up to lock his gaze with mine, and the smirk slowly left his features. He brought a hand up to my cheek, fingers caressing it gently.

"Wally," he started, "if any of this is making you uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to say something, or push me off."

My body tensed slightly, before I forced myself to relax. "I'm not entirely sure how I'm s'posed t'say anything when you insist on trying t'reduce me to incoherency," I mumbled, and he snickered. "But I will." I put one of my hands over his on my cheek. "There's a crucial difference between then and now that you're forgetting," I stated, and Bruce raised an eyebrow.

"What's that?"

"I never felt anything besides contempt for those bastards. You, on the other hand..." I sat up as best as I could and nipped at his ear. "I love you," I breathed next to it, and his arms tightened around my waist where they were supporting me. I moved back, and was met with a gratifying smile.

"I love you too." The next kiss was forceful and demanding, all the anxieties, anger, relief and joy he'd felt during the past several months pouring into it. I accepted it without hesitation, not realizing what he was doing until I felt my jeans being tugged down. I let him, recognizing the fact he needed assurance that I'd really accepted him, that I'd really healed. I barely held in a gasp when he grazed his teeth along the inside of my thighs, moaning at the sensations he created. _Damn_ it felt good, especially when he tongue ran along the same paths his teeth had taken. He seemed to worship whatever skin he skimmed across, and my breath hitched several times.

I couldn't help the strangled cry that I let loose when he finally took what he'd been aiming for, and he hummed in satisfaction at the noises I made. The tremors from the humming in his throat sent shockwaves through my body, causing me to arch up with a whimper. He pushed my hips down to stop them bucking, and a growl sounded from my own throat, half in annoyance at being held down and half in sheer desire. I buried my fingers in his dark hair, tugging gently the more he did. Whatever he was doing, it felt amazing. The thought of being touched this intimately by someone who'd stolen my heart made it jump. I couldn't imagine anything else at that moment in time. Howell, Crowe, that bloody brothel...they all faded to the background, like they didn't exist. I was still pure, still unviolated. And this was everything I wanted, everything I needed. There was just the two of us.

When he finally pushed me over the edge, I fell with a yelp that was halfway between a sob and a moan, screaming his name as I did. As I came down from whatever high I'd been on, I lay with one arm over my eyes, breathing heavy and sporadic. His lips touched mine, and I replied only hazily.

"I need to make you voice that noise more," grinned Bruce against my mouth.

"Where the fuck did you learn to do that?" I asked breathlessly, and he shrugged.

"Dunno," he said, honestly. "It was instinct."

I waited for all of 30 seconds for my breathing to even out, before grinning and flipping our positions. I sat on his stomach, smirking down at his surprised expression. "You're still wearing too many clothes," I said, and hooked my fingers underneath the waistband of his bleached jeans. I took my time sliding them off, keeping hold of Bruce's gaze. His already dark blue eyes darkened even more with lust, and that just made my smirk wider. Pressing my lips to his abdomen, I traced every contour of his muscles and every outline of his skin with light kisses, my tongue following up just like he had done on my thighs. I nearly laughed when he gasped my name as I found a particularly sensitive spot on his hip. Bruce Wayne, man under the mask of the immovable fortress that was Batman, was like liquid in my hands. I continued to nibble and suck at that hot spot, allowing my hands to continue the wanderings my lips and tongue had abandoned.

Eventually I gave up, moving my ministrations down further. His body was warm, a musky scent of vanilla was something my fried brain vaguely noted. My tongue twisted around his hurting tip, slowly welcoming more and more of Bruce in. His gasps and grunts gradually evolved into powerful groans and yelps. I could tell that every rake of my teeth along the top, bottom, every circle my tongue outlined was sending Bruce closer and closer to the edge. His head flung back, teeth bared, and at that moment I realized that everything so far had been totally worth it just to see the look on his face. He whimpered - actually _whimpered_ - my name when I managed to push him over in retaliation for his earlier assault. Hearing my name being called like that was true music, something I'd relish for a long time to come.

I giggled as he slowly came out of his euphoria, and ran a finger in circles on his chest. I could've drawn the Olympic rings like a thousand times over for the amount of time it took his breathing to slow. When it finally did, he lowered his eyes to lock with my green ones, and I gave him a smile.

"I don't understand," he said breathily, sitting up and gathering me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, hands gripping his shoulders gently.

"Understand what?"

"How you could go through with that, after everything."

I sighed and pulled back a bit, so I was still well within his arm but no longer in an embrace. "I had to face doing something like that sometime, Bruce. It's part of the healing." I shrugged. "I can't go for the rest of my life being terrified just because of what some bastard decided to put me through." I kissed him softly, keeping it chaste. "Besides, I trust you. Completely."

His fingers ran across some of the lines that made up my muscles, not breaking our eye contact. "I'm glad. Love you, Wally."

"Love you too."

--

From then on, we were inseparable. In a sense. I moved in with him, leaving my small apartment in Central City. I still went back there every day, keeping an eye on the city that I grew up in and loved and visiting all the orphanages, and I also helped Bruce patrol Gotham when I wasn't too tired. I heard rumours and questions being raised by the city as to why the Flash was even in Gotham, but for the most part I let the Dark Knight handle it. He had been for years, why spoil his fun?

The League could tell something had changed between us, but they just didn't know what. John had asked several times what was up with me and Bats, but I just grinned and told him 'nothing special'. Which was bullshit, but there you go. I didn't want to tell them, not yet. Let them try and work it out; wouldn't it be more fun for me that way?

'Course, we couldn't keep it secret forever, and it was because of me (I think, anyway) that we were eventually found out. I'd just finished a patrol with GL and as soon as we landed the Javelin I shot out of it and ran to the bay doors. I waited for John to fly down to me, smirking as I asked what took him so long. He aimed a good-natured swat at me, which I dodged with a laugh. Man, it felt so good to be back with the League again, I can tell you that. I was gradually being re-introduced to my duties, making sure I didn't over-exert myself and I could handle various things before something else was added to the list. Which was fair enough. If it meant Flash was back in business I really didn't care.

John walked with me a little way until we reached the elevator. He stopped off at the dormitory level, but I continued up on my own to the monitor station area. I was looking for someone, and he was bound to be here. I laughed to myself when my hunch proved to be true. The rather imposing but (in my mind) very sexy form of Batman sat frowning at the monitors, switching between cameras and zooming in, only to zoom out again when it turned out to be nothing. I zipped over to him, draping my arms around his neck in a hug from behind.

"Hi Bats," I greeted.

"Hi Flash." The smile, while not present on his lips, was definitely in his voice. I moved around him and settled myself on his lap in such a way that his view of the monitors wasn't blocked.

"Hey Bruce?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we go out for dinner tonight? I feel like having a Mexican, but Alfred doesn't like doing Mexican dishes." I gave him slightly pleading look, and this time he did smile physically.

"I don't see why not. I'd quite like a Mexican."

"And then we can go ice-skating afterwards!"

"Ice-skating?" Bruce raised an eyebrow at that, and I nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds fun. Count me in." I made a happy noise and hugged him again. I felt one arm wrap around my waist while the other still worked at the keypads. I felt safe and comfortable against Bruce's body, like nothing in the world could touch me while I was there. I closed my eyes and pulled a little closer, drawing a light laugh out of the Dark Knight. "Wally..."

"What?" I mumbled from somewhere in his chest.

"You're like a kid sometimes, you know that?" My head came up at that and I saw a light of amusement dancing in those dark blue eyes. I grinned.

"I'm still only a teenager, Bruce. 'Course I'm still childish."

"You're 20 years old in 2 weeks' time."

"And until then, I can be as childish as I want." I pressed my lips to his fleetingly. "Know what my motto is?" I asked, and Bats shook his head with a smile. "It's 'growing old is inevitable, growing up is optional'. I live by it."

"I noticed." Bruce accepted another kiss from me, waiting for all of 3 seconds before he deepened it. I started when he did; I really wasn't expecting it. It wasn't that I didn't want it, I just didn't think he would. I wound my hands around his neck, tugging lightly on his hair. He growled and pulled me closer, slipping my hood down. I felt the lightning bolts hit the back of my shoulders, the sudden coolness of the monitor room touch the back of my neck. Bruce's fingers trailed down my sides, making me shiver, before coming to rest on my hips. He pulled away, leaving both of us short of breath. I grinned lop-sidedly.

We both jumped a mile, though, when a voice cleared itself from the doorway. Both of us looked up to see Green Lantern and Superman in the doorway. John had a knowing and amused expression on his face, while Superman looked totally stunned. It was the first time I'd ever seen him look quite like that, and I couldn't help a giggle.

"Hi Sups, hi GL!" I chirped.

"Somehow, I knew it," said John, putting a hand on his hip. I stuck my tongue out at him and got up from my comfortable 'chair'. "'Nothing special', huh?"

"Hush you," I said. "I'm still trying to believe it myself."

"Wait, so you two are..." Superman glanced between us and I sniggered. The next millisecond I was next to him and patting him patronizingly on the cheek.

"Bit slow, Sups!" I stated gleefully. He pushed at my hand and glared at me, but a growl from the monitor chair made all of us look at Bruce. He was giving Clarke a very intense look, and the Man of Steel squirmed under the gaze. Obviously GL didn't mind, but Bats seemed to be daring Clarke to say something against us.

"It's...unexpected," he said eventually. "I mean, you two are like polar opposites. But whatever. Weirder things have happened, I suppose." He shrugged and sent a small salute to us both, before John started pushing him out the room.

"'Scuse the interruption, carry on!" He quipped when they were pretty much out the door. I picked up a pen and hurled it in his direction, and he ducked it with a cackle.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I called.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's blackmail! Catch you later, hot-shot!" They vanished, and the monitor room doors hissed shut. I put my hands on my hips, cocking them unconsciously to the side, and eyed the door.

"We need a lock on that thing," I muttered, before yelping as someone yanked me gently backwards and kissed me thoroughly. I relaxed as I recognized Bruce's scent and kissed back. When we broke apart, he pushed at me slightly.

"Go get something to eat, you look like you need it."

I nodded. "Want anything?"

"I'll have a root beer." I dipped my head again and sped off out of the monitor room. I felt the calming rhythm of my feet pushing against the ground to propel me forwards. I often had questions, mostly from Diana, about why I didn't run into things while I using my superspeed. It's kinda hard to explain, but it's like the faster I run, the slower everything around me seems to become. I can dodge around things and move freely because everything's in slow-motion. It speeds back up to normal time when I slow down again, but it's a really strange feeling. Hard to describe.

I slowed and sauntered into the kitchen canteen. Grabbing a root beer and a Coke from the fridge, I also took a packet of Pringles, an apple, some of J'onn's Oreos and made myself a quick turkey sandwich. Food in arms, I made my way back up to the monitor station. Bruce took his root beer with a 'thank you' and let me settle back down on his lap to eat my food and help him keep an eye on the monitors. When I was done I Ieaned back into his chest and let a smile trace my lips.

Never mind the Fastest Man Alive; right now, I was the Happiest Man Alive.

* * *

**Rae:** My writing's improving, methinks :) Tell what you thought of it and thanks for reading!


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